


The Date

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: The Date<br/>Prompt: Sexy Costume<br/>Continuity: G1<br/>Characters: Swindle and Vortex, with talk of Streetwise<br/>Rating: PG</p><p>Summary: Swindle has a new romantic liaison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Date

Swindle buzzed to and fro, reappearing frequently in front of Vortex’ mirror – Vortex being the only Combaticon to have a full length one – to assess the full impact of his courting costume.  
  
It was not that Swindle had adopted anything radically different. But after days of slogging it out on the battlefield, substandard accommodation and definitely no makeovers, this _felt_ like a new outfit. And it was definitely sexy. Which was good because it was, after all, for a rather important purpose.  
  
The jeep was pleased. His panels gleamed yellow and purple, his windscreen was scrupulously clean, his tires blacked and contrasting sexily with the new chrome hubcaps. Best of all, he’d had the Decepticon symbols reapplied just where they showed up various parts of his anatomy that he wanted to be _noticed._  
  
Yeah – all in all, a pretty decent effort.  
  
“Hmmnnn ....” he examined himself critically in the glass. “Hmmnnn – little more wax on the chest plates I believe….” And he bustled back to his room again to make the necessary adjustment, paying no heed whatsoever to Vortex, who was sprawled in a state of semi unconsciousness on the couch.  
  
“Dadah Tih dah! Oooh yeah!” Swindle hummed as he sprayed afterwash on to his neck cables.  
  
...............  
  
Vortex’s head felt as though a thousand piledrivers were being driven through it. He was trying to sleep, and _not_ think of the pileup at that 'Halloween' party last night, or mechs in weird costumes, or bizarre combinations of interface gear, or precisely whose face his fist had slammed into.  
  
And he definitely did _not_ want to know what, exactly, had happened, after the cops and the ambulance arrived. Not just now.  
  
The good thing he’d been finding about this new pad was its utter peace and quiet; the opportunity it afforded to properly recuperate between such 'outings.' Usually. Except that right now he didn’t seem able to do that, owing entirely to the _thoroughly annoying passage_ of Swindle in and out of the room and that _infernal_ humming.  
  
The mech was there; then disappeared. Then he was back. More humming, footsteps, and he was gone again. Then back. Vortex gritted his denta.  
  
When Swindle returned for a fourth time, humming even more loudly, the copter could stand it no longer. Opening his optics and squinting, he saw the jeep in front of the mirror, engaged in what appeared to be a show of self appreciation. Great! Swindle spotted Vortex in the mirror, and turned around.  
  
“Hey, Tex! You're in the land of the living! Say, I could do with your advice here …”  
  
There was no escape. Vortex onlined his optics and, with a great effort, heaved himself into a sitting position.  
  
“Swindle,” he said, as calmly as he could muster, “what the frag are you doing?”  
  
.............  
  
  
Bouncing over to stand in front of the copter, Swindle put his hands on his hips. "D’you think I’ve overdone it?" he asked. "Or haven't done enough? D’you think maybe should I buff myself up a bit more?"  
  
The Copter blinked at him and rubbed his optics. “Eh?” he said.  
  
“D’you like the colour?”  
  
“Ungghh? It’s yellow. You’re always that colour.”  
  
“D’you like the tires?”  
  
Vortex squinted. “Yeah! They look – squeezable …”  
  
“How about my windscreen? Its the latest reflective glass!”  
  
“Yeah, yeah … I can see my fraggin’ face in it, its amazing …”  
  
“How about this insignia?” Swindle jutted out a hip, showing off the purple symbol.  
  
“Yeah. Its …” It was too much right now, damn it! What did Swindle think Vortex was. A slaggin’ fashion consultant?  
  
And what was all this about anyway? In fact, apart from being such a _darned nusisance,_ how dare Swindle make _arrangements_ without telling he, Vortex, what was going on.  
  
Yeah – all of that. Not to mention that his head was exploding!  
  
Heaving himself up, Vortex headed across to a cabinet, from which he extracted a cube of high grade. He cracked it open. “So,” he said. “And all this is in aid of?” he managed it calmly. Which was good - because Swindle could so easily change from this exuberance and become ‘uppity,’ and that would be _so_ much worse.  
  
But Swindle was definitely in the best of moods. “It’s called ‘going on a date,’ Tex. Something I do partake of occasionally – “ His optics glinted, a very flashy purple Vortex noticed. “And I’m sure you won’t have to go and get me, or do some fancy footwork to save my hide from Prowl.”  
  
Vortex sipped on his cube. So that was how he’d gotten back.  
  
Feeling a little better from the ‘grade, Vortex reminded himself that Swindle could be useful. Yes – a few more of these, and he might even forgive him for disrupting his ‘recovery.’ Later. When the headache had gone.  
  
“So – who’s the lucky mech?” he asked. It would be useful to know that. From a strictly security point of view of course.  
  
Swindle smiled secretively, and it looked for a moment as though he might be going to withold that particular information. But then, he grinned. “Streetwise!” he said.  
  
The hand holding Vortex’s glass froze halfway to his mouth. _“Who?”_ He asked incredulously.


End file.
